Targets
by wynteralchemyst
Summary: "She could feel him watching her." In the Balfonheim tavern, Balthier takes it upon himself to instruct Ashe in target practice.


She could feel him watching her.

Her hands were folded on her lap, but she itched to drum them impatiently on the stained tabletop. Her head was turned to the window, the expression of calm she had perfected now securely on her face. But the ocean, as mysterious, as soothing, as _strange_ as a body of water larger than all the deserts of Dalmasca was, it could not hold her attention a moment longer.

Yet she pretended, all because of the sky pirate sitting next to her who would not look away.

Ashe forced herself to take a slow breath, her gaze moving almost lazily to the clouds hovering on the horizon. Waiting here while Vaan, Penelo, and Basch went on a hunt-really, was it necessary for Vaan to go off now? Simply because he wanted a few more treasures to add to his name?-was nearly intolerable. The Pharos Lighthouse waited somewhere beyond the azure waves and pearly foam, out of reach until Vaan decided to come back with the group's supply of items and teleport stones.

Her hands curled into fists under the table. _I think I nearly hate that boy, _she thought, working hard to let out her sigh as smoothly as possible.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ashe saw one side of Balthier's mouth tilt upwards. He was still looking at her. Why? Did he think she was amusing? She swallowed. Her heart beat faster in her chest and she took a long breath, trying to calm herself down. _Very well,_ she told herself sternly, _I admit: he is a handsome man. He has been since I met him several months ago, yet I have never felt this much-_ She stopped herself.

The problem was that she knew how Balthier had uncovered this-this _weakness_ in her. She remembered the first time they had come to Balfonheim, and the sharp scent of salt and wildness and the loud crying of gulls. She remembered his quick smile and the bright mischievousness in his copper eyes as he led her through the street vendors that lined the cobbled roads of the port city. She remembered the challenge in his cultured voice, the smell of the warm yeast and cinnamon sugar, the soft pressure of his lips against her fingertips.

There was a question in his eyes, then. A question she hadn't answered.

"Princess."

Balthier's query sent a rush of heat through Ashe's body and her cheeks flushed. With her face set in a serene expression, she turned to look at him, her voice slightly unsteady when she caught sight of his charming smile. "Yes?" She asked, cursing her weakness.

He leaned over the table, his arms crossed on the flat wooden top. "Are you well?" He asked. His eyes flickered across her face and Ashe could see the gold flecks in his irises. "Your highness appears tense."

Ashe notice for the first time that her hands were clenching the hem of her skirt. "What makes you say that?" She asked, gently flattening her palms against her leg.

Balthier's smile widened. He stood in one elegant movement, his chair scratching against the floor planks, and extended a hand to Ashe. "Come with me," he said. "We shan't go far."

She blinked from his hand to his face and back again. "Alright," she said, and she was pleased that her low voice was steady. She rose and took his hand; it was the second time he had held her like this, and once again his fingers were warm against hers.

As Balthier led Ashe across the crowded common room, the princess looked for Balthier's viera partner and, after a moment, found her leaning against a far wall, speaking to a vieran wayfarer the group had met when they first came to Balfonheim. Balthier and Fran had always been close, ever since Ashe had known them. Would Balthier take her somewhere without his partner? She almost felt her duty to ask, but... she held her tongue.

But Balthier saw her looking. "Don't worry about her," he said. "For this next bit, I'd like you to pretend there's just the two of us in the Whitecap. Ah-here we are."

They had reached the corner of the room that was furthest from the lanterns overhead, and it was partially concealed from the bar from a broad, sand-colored column. Ashe studied the circular cork board pinned to the wall across from her. She counted five small knives imbedded in the brown and white circular stripes. "A target for throwing knives?" She asked, her frown audible in her voice.

"Many an evening I spent here, passively draining my frustrations and anger," Balthier said lightly, the knuckles of one hand balanced on his hip. "Against all odds, I'd say it helps. Go on-try it."

"I am not practiced with knives." There was a sinking in her chest that she was trying to ignore. She was disappointed, yes, and that surprised her; she'd wanted something more. Unsure of what to feel about this, she told him, "I don't think throwing knives will help."

Balthier sighed and went to pull the knives from the target. "Well, humor _me_ then," he told her, holding the first one out to her.

Ashe looked up into his face to see if he was upset and noted his arched eyebrow. It was another challenge from him again, though less playful than last time, and Ashe knew her pride could not let this, too, pass unanswered. She took the slim blade he offered and carefully aimed at the center of the corkboard. Her briefly-entertained thoughts of amazing the sky pirate by obtaining a bulls-eye on the first try vanished when the knife bounced off the edge and clattered to the ground. Her frown deepened.

"Try again, highness." To his credit, Balthier didn't even smile. He passed her another blade. "Further to the left."

Ashe carefully aimed, and this time the knife stuck squarely in the furthest circle. A blush of shame crept onto her cheeks. She could hear the clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation, imagining that every patron in the tavern was watching her embarrass herself grandly. "And this is why my first choice is not a ranged weapon," Ashe muttered. "My aim has never been my strongest skill."

"How fortunate it is that I am here, then." Balthier slipped another knife into her hand and stepped behind her. "The textbook instructions are easy enough to follow. Feet shoulder-width apart, as so. You already know to keep both eyes open, and always aim a little lower than you mean for the knife to hit; this gives the projectile a straighter trajectory."

Ashe nodded, but she couldn't keep the knowledge that he was watching her, standing right _behind_ her, out of her head. The knife struck the board at an odd angle, straddling the border between white and brown sections.

"Your problem isn't the technicalities of the thing," Baltheir murmured, stepping so close that Ashe could feel the warmth of his chest press against her shoulder blades. He slid his hand down her arm, a finger trailing lightly against her skin, and placed the fourth blade in her hand. "Focus. Hold your weapon tightly, like you mean to use it." He cupped his hand around hers.

"Yes." Balthier's other hand was curved around her shoulder, and an involuntary shiver traveled down her spine. He was so warm.

"Next comes the easy part." Balthier bent his head and whispered against her ear. "None of them matter. Only you and I here, remember? Focus on that."

His breath was hot on her neck and his lips tickled the sensitive skin of her earlobe. Ashe's breath was fast and shallow; she couldn't focus on anything else _besides him_-Balthier, holding her in an almost-embrace. It struck her then that she could turn, ever so slightly, and kiss him. She had thought of it before, once or twice-more than was proper for a royal widow-but never realistically. And now...

How on earth had a sky pirate resurrected these strong feelings in her?

Ashe did turn then, but away, to face him. Balthier dropped his hands, but their bodies were still pressed against one another. Ashe glanced at his chest and then up at his face, suppressing the ridiculous urge to stroke the embroidery on his green and gold vest. "Balthier," she began, but he pressed two fingers to her lips.

"Now it is too public," Balthier said, and for a moment Ashe didn't understand what he meant until she caught sight of Vaan and Penelo clattering down the Whitecap's steps toward them.

"Hey, guys!" Vaan called. "Guess what we-uh," he stopped short and Penelo nearly bumped into him. "What're you guys doing?" He asked slowly.

Ashe blushed and pulled away, her gaze turning resolutely out the window as Basch came down the steps behind the two children.

"C'mon." Penelo plucked at Vaan's sleeve. "Let's go talk to Fran."

Vaan crossed his arms, staring at Balthier and then at Ashe. "But they-"

"Before Balthier gets mad." Penelo motioned to Basch. "You too."

Vaan turned away, his hands locked behind his head. "Yeah, then he'd probably say-" He pitched his voice low in an effort to imitate Bathier. "-_go bother someone else at present."_

"That's pretty good," Penelo said, laughing. After a moment Basch turned to follow them, the scowl on his face deeper than usual.

For a long moment, neither Ashe or Balthier spoke. Then, with a smile, Balthier threw his knife straight into the center of the bulls-eye. He caught Ashe's appreciative look and shrugged. "Practice, princess," he said simply. He bowed his head slightly, and her heart rose to see that charming smile tugging at his mouth. He turned away, leaving Ashe with the last knife.

She threw the blade with enough force that the dulled edges sliced one finger. She watched with satisfaction as the knife hit closer to Balthier's than any of the others, and glanced toward her group, where they were now swarming around Fran.

Ashe sighed wearily and sucked on her bleeding finger. _I think I do hate that boy._

**Believe it or not, I did write this one first.**

__**A prequel to this one is coming... sometime. It's about how the FFXII group first got to Balfonheim and Balthier basically dared Ashe to eat a cinnamon pastry. But since it's Balthier, you know it's going to be heavy, ha ha.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Reviews would be awesome!  
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